


Cuisses de Gasoline

by Masu_Trout



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Guilt, Hand Feeding, Pre-Canon, Protectiveness, Wilderness Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 03:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6035830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masu_Trout/pseuds/Masu_Trout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The care and feeding of a catatonic Cloud Strife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cuisses de Gasoline

The air around them was cold and dark and windy, and dust kept whipping into Zack's face and eyes every time he tried to move. The Midgar Wastelands were completely barren; the best cover he'd managed to find was a tiny outcropping of rocks. 

Still, the night wasn't a total loss. He'd cut down a few monsters earlier when clearing out a spot for them to rest, and their corpses had been plump enough that they'd have something to eat tonight. He couldn't afford to start a fire—the smoke would be seen in an instant—but a few pieces of fire materia placed directly on the meat and wrapped in the monster's skin worked almost as well.

Zack opened the little bundle with practiced fingers and pulled off a strip of meat. It was tough as zolom leather and gamey to boot, but it went down as easy as if it were a steak from the finest restaurant in Midgar. He hadn't realized just how hungry he was.

He pulled off another, slightly larger piece and quickly shredded it as thin as he could manage before turning towards his companion. Cloud was leaning against one of the larger boulders, head and shoulders propped up against its side while the rest of his body laid splayed out in the loose dirt. His eyes were closed, but Zack could see his eyelids and the corners of his mouth twitching as though he were having some sort of strange dream.

“Okay, open up!” Zack cringed at the sound of his own voice. He sounded like he was talking to a baby chocobo, not another human being. 

Cloud probably wouldn't be offended, probably couldn't even hear him, but still. He might be in a bit of a tough spot, but that didn't mean he deserved to be talked down to.

“Devil ride roast is our menu for tonight,” he continued in a more conversational tone. “Let me tell you, I did _not_ think those freaks of nature were going to have any meat on them at all. I half-expected we were going to end up drinking motor oil for dinner.”

No response. Not that Zack had expected one.

“Lucky for you”—he leaned in closer as he talked, carefully pulling Cloud's mouth open with three fingers—“I've become an _amazing_ c out here. Maybe once we make it to the big city I'll find a job as a chef. You could see me in a white apron, right?”

Zack plucked the smallest possible morsel of meat out of his little stash and pushed it into Cloud's mouth, then just as cautiously pulled his fingers back out. Sometimes Cloud was there enough to chew and swallow on his own, sometimes he'd even open his mouth for more once he'd realized he was being fed—

With a sudden, violent noise, Cloud's body convulsed. He choked and gagged weakly, not even managing enough force to spit the food out.

“Okay, okay!” Zack tilted Cloud's head to the side, pushing his mouth open wide enough for the chunk of meat to slip back out and land in the dirt. It made a wet little _splat_ when it the ground, the noise just barely audible over the sound of Cloud's panicked gasps.

“Shh,” Zack said quietly. He ran his hands through Cloud's hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “It's okay, don't worry. You're fine, you're all right.”

Finally, Cloud's breathing slowed. He lapsed back into his normal stillness, the slight raspiness in his breathing the only sign he'd just nearly choked to death on a piece of meat no bigger than a gil.

 _Shit_. Zack put his head in his hands, willing his own breathing to calm. Twenty years old, and Cloud could barely breathe on his own. He couldn't talk, couldn't smile, couldn't react to anything around him, and all of it because Zack had fucked up colossally when his friend was depending on him most. 

He'd trusted Sephiroth and Hojo and even ShinRa, told Cloud everything would be all right, and what had it gotten Cloud? Years of torture and starvation, the deaths of everyone he loved, and a future that looked as bleak as the land around them.

He really was the worst friend ever.

“Sorry,” Zack said quietly, curling his fingers into the soft material of the sweatshirt he'd stolen for Cloud. “I just—I'm really sorry.” For all the good an apology now would do him; the days Cloud seemed to understand anything he said were few and far between.

Cloud made a soft little sound. It was less than a whimper, barely a noise at all, but when Zack looked down Cloud was looking back up at him. His eyes were open now. His gaze looked more focused than before—more focused than it had been in a while, actually. His fingers curled and uncurled loosely, leaving thin lines in the dust.

“Huh?” Zack asked. “You want to try again?”

Cloud didn't say anything, but Zack had a feeling the answer was yes.

“All right,” he said. He couldn't help the smile that stretched across his face as he picked out another chunk of meat. “Let's give this one another go, okay? Don't worry, you'll be a devil ride connoisseur in no time.”

Zack couldn't afford to worry about the past, not when Cloud was depending on him. Soon, they'd be out of this wasteland; Zack could have a proper shower, and Cloud would definitely do a lot better when he didn't have to spend so much of his energy fighting off the effects of exposure and exhaustion.

Things would get better. _They_ would get better. All he needed to do was keep moving forward.

**Author's Note:**

> These two. ;-;


End file.
